


We’ve Got a Small Problem

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Magic, Pre-Slash, Shrinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 18:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He’s kinda cute now that he’s so tiny. Must be the power of tiny things right?”</p><p>Scott blinks owlishly, clearly not understanding the reference. ”Power of tiny things?” </p><p>Stiles nods, placing the increasingly irate alpha into the palm of his free hand. “Yep.” Derek tries to kick Stiles’ thumb, still yelling that he wants to be put down but Stiles ignores him. “Tiny things are always cute, even alpha werewolves apparently. And look!” Stiles gives Derek’s tail a little tug (it makes Derek yell louder, hands coming back to protectively cover his rear with a heated glare) “He’s even got a tail!” </p><p>Scott swoops in to take Derek out of Stiles’ hands, protectively cradling the older but tinier man against his chest with a disapproving look on his face. “Stop teasing him Stiles! We gotta help him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	We’ve Got a Small Problem

**Author's Note:**

> [Inspired by this super cute fanart!](http://xiaopa25.tumblr.com/post/49260902936/im-trying-to-draw-stiles-with-the-hairstyle-in-se)

"Stiles!" Derek barks, flailing in the teenagers grip so hard that he swings in place. "Put me down already!"  
  


But the teenager ignores the yelling - easy enough now that Derek is what? 4? 5 inches tall. He continues to hold the alpha up between a finger and his thumb, staring at him before he declares, “He’s kinda cute now that he’s so tiny. Must be the power of tiny things right?”  
  


Scott blinks owlishly, clearly not understanding the reference. ”Power of tiny things?”   
  


Stiles nods, placing the increasingly irate alpha into the palm of his free hand. “Yep.” Derek tries to kick Stiles’ thumb, still yelling that he wants to be put down but Stiles ignores him. “Tiny things are always cute, even alpha werewolves apparently. And look!” Stiles gives Derek’s tail a little tug (it makes Derek yell louder, hands coming back to protectively cover his rear with a heated glare) “He’s even got a  _tail_!”   
  


Scott swoops in to take Derek out of Stiles’ hands, protectively cradling the older but tinier man against his chest with a disapproving look on his face. “Stop teasing him Stiles! We gotta help him.”   
  


"Do we gotta?" Stiles sighs, leaning forward in the hopes of finding just enough room between Scott’s cupped hands that he can sneak two fingers in and check how soft and fluffy tiny!Derek’s tail is.  
  


Angry red eyes peek through Scott’s fingers, clearly unamused by Stiles’ helpful attitude. “I mean,” Stiles waves a hand at Derek, who is pushing away Scott’s palm and glaring at both boys, “He’s cuter like this. Easier to manage too I bet.”  
  


Derek glares harder at Stiles, eyes flashing as he grinds out, “Just take me to Deaton.”  
  


Scott’s face lights up immediately. “Great idea! I’ll dr-” He looks at Stiles and the slightly manic glint in his eyes, then at Derek before correcting himself. “ **You**  drive, **I’ll**  hold Derek.” Stiles gives his best friend a dirty look before jogging out to where Scott had parked the car. Way to spoil his fun.  
  


—  
  


"I think the biggest question is why Derek has a tail." Stiles adds to the conversation, nodding to himself as he wonders on this issue. Which is why it takes him a few seconds to realize that the others are giving him an incredulous look. Strange that even when he’s so small, Derek’s eyebrow raise still has the same power to say ‘really, you idiot?’  
  


"What?" Sties asks defensively, shoulders rising up. "It’s a legitimate question!"  
  


Scott appears to be thinking about the query, Derek rolls his eyes (complete with a tiny but extremely aggravated huff) and Deaton simply carries on as though Stiles hasn’t said anything. “It will take me a few days but I think I can whip something up that will help you summon the witch and get her to turn Derek back to his regular self.”  
  


Derek looks torn between relief and irritation as Scott thanks Deaton. Stiles can understand that feeling. Wait a minute. He stands up straighter, pointing at Derek. “If it’s gonna take a few days, where’s he going to stay?”  
  


He looks right at Derek as he continues, “Given that he’s basically half the size of a Ken doll means that we can’t take him back to his loft! Not unless someone’s there with him all the time or else a cat might drag him off or something.”  
  


The alpha werewolf is unimpressed and insulted at the insinuation, even more so when Scott agrees with Stiles. “Maybe one of us should take him home with us?” He proposes, brown eyes wide and earnest.  
  


Stiles thinks about that for approximately 0.01 seconds before replying, “How about  _Isaac_ takes him home and looks after him? I think this is strictly a matter that falls into the Sass pack jurisdiction.”  
  


"Stop calling it that!" Derek snaps, arms crossed over his chest. Stiles takes a quick moment to appreciate whatever magic that the witch had used because thank  _God_ that it has shrunk Derek’s clothes along with him. Otherwise… well. Stiles really doesn’t want to think about otherwise. (Not right now anyways.)  
  


"Who am I supposed to look after?" The sudden addition makes Stiles jump, hitting the nearby cart hard enough to send it crashing to the ground.   
  


Everyone winces at the sudden noise, Stiles especially so before he stands tall and points at Isaac. He shouldn’t yell but he does so anyways to prove his point. “ _Stop_ doing that!  _God!_ Do all of you werewolves have to do the sudden and dramatic entrance thing? It’s  _annoying_! It’s gonna give someone a heart attack one of these days!”  
  


Isaac gives him a good natured smirk before repeating his question. “So, who am I-…  _Derek_?” The teenager darts forward, staring in bewilderment at the tiny alpha before looking up questioning at Scott. “What the hell happened? Is this what the emergency is?”  
  


It takes him a moment but Stiles realizes that Scott had probably texted Isaac and told him to come to here. Although his first desire is to hit Scott upside the head, the second desire is far more rational. It makes sense to tell Isaac what had happened because after all, Derek  _was_ his Alpha.  
  


Scott meanwhile, has quickly explained the situation to the curly haired teen. Who shakes his head firmly. “I can’t.” Isaac says, giving Derek an apologetic look. “I’m living in a foster home with other kids. He’d be more in danger there. And I’ve curfew so I can’t stay at the loft either.”  
  


Derek doesn’t look put out. Instead he simply sighs and nods, “I figured as much.” Then he looks up at Scott, voice remaining bland as he asks, “Could I stay with you?”  
  


Stiles pipes in immediately, “I wouldn’t. His room’s a hazard anyways when you’re a normal sized human.”  
  


"Hey!" The affronted yell makes Stiles want to grin. "Like your room’s any better!" Hmm, he’s got him there.   
  


Scott scratches his head, debating internally over the question. “You could but ummm I don’t know what I’d tell my mom.”  
  


That makes Stiles snort in amusement. “Dude. Just tell her a whacky wicked witch laid the whammy on Derek and he’s gonna stay for a few days. Easy peasy.”  
  


"But I’ve got my aunt coming over tomorrow." Scott reminds him, eyes flitting to the wall clock before returning to land on Stiles. "No way I can have anything supernatural around."  
  


Stiles sighs, runs a hand through his hair before giving Derek a wry look. “Guess you’ll be shacking up with me then.”  
  


"Joy." Derek grumbles, looking like he’s swallowed a whole lemon.  
  


—  
  


The way Derek keeps squirming in his shirt pocket keeps Stiles on the edge of a giggle fit. “Stop it!” He sternly tells the alpha clinging to the pocket hem as he parks his car. “Or else I’m gonna tie a string around you and use you like a yo-yo!”  
  


"Feel free to try!" Derek snaps back, claws digging into the fabric as Stiles tumbles out of his Jeep. The alpha looks around them before he asks, "Why the hell are we here?"  
  


Stiles waves his hand at the store front, aiming for dramatic but he’s certain that he looks damned silly. “We’re here to get supplies!”   
  


Derek eyes the window display and the bright logo before he looks up at Stiles. “From a toy store?”  
  


"How do you feel about Ken’s clothing?" Stiles asks, a wicked grin on his face.  
  


—  
  


The ride home is quiet and frankly, it makes Stiles nervous. And it’s a documented fact that he babbles when he’s nervous. Which pushes the awkward levels past 11 on the scale.  
  


"I don’t know why you’re so upset." Stiles repeats for the fourth time, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, counting down the seconds for the light to turn green. "I got you the outfit which is practically what you wear every day!"  
  


Okay so the jacket wasn’t original leather and the materials were probably polyester or nylon and itchy as hell but clothes were clothes when you were tiny right? It’s not like Stiles has magical sewing skills that he can use to stitch some clothes for Derek! He’d just like some appreciation dammit! “Besides, you weren’t the one getting weird looks for standing in the Barbie aisle debating on which Ken clothes to get.”  
  


Still nothing. Derek is still staring moodily at the dashboard, not even an eyebrow twitching. “This is about the silky robe and pyjama’s set isn’t it.” Nope, still not a reaction. Maybe it was the beach bum outfit? Or maybe the leopard print surfer shorts? The flannel, plaid print pyjamas? Dammit, there were just too many reasons why Derek was pissed at him.   
  


Maybe if he offeres Derek a cookie once they got home, he’d be forgiven.   
  


—  
  


Derek eyes the cookie distastefully, as though he can smell the bribe on it. He gives Stiles an unamused look before he asks, “A cookie for dinner?”  
  


Stiles scrubs his hands over his neck, distractedly noting that he needs to take a shower before going to bed. “I figure it’s big enough for a whole meal?” Derek gives him a look that screams ‘I am judging you so hard right now’ that Stiles is afraid that Derek might break something. Like his eyebrows.  
  


He sighs, scratching the back of his head before he walks over to the fridge. “I’ve got some mac n cheese left over from yesterday. I guess you could eat that?” He’d leave the how up to Derek because if he didn’t want to eat a cookie then he could figure out the logistics himself. “Or hey, there’s always noodles.”  
  


The tiny person standing on the kitchen counter visibly perks up at the mention. “What flavor?” Derek asks.  
  


Stiles hips checks the fridge door before walking over to open another cabinet, hands going all the way to the back. “I think I’ve got Chicken and Spicy.” When his fingertips hit the round edge of the cup, he pulls it out and stares at the label. “Or just Chicken.” Stiles holds it out for Derek to see before asking, “That fine?”  
  


Derek nods, sitting down on the cool marble as Stiles putters around the small kitchen. “This doesn’t mean that I forgive you.” Stiles groans and tries not to smack the kettle into his head repeatedly. It just  _figures_ that Derek was going to make an issue out of the clothes and all.  
  


 _'I shoulda gotten him the Barbie car if he was going to act like this.'_  Stiles thinks to himself, frowning at the water rushing out of the tap and into the kettle.  _'Stupid primadonna werewolf.'_  
  


—  
  


Stiles stares at Derek. Stares at him some more before he carefully asks, “You’re gonna sleep… like that?”  
  


The tiny werewolf doesn’t bat an eyelash as he says, “Yes.”  
  


It’s a hard thing not to whine (or to roll his eyes) but Stiles manages not to do either as he flaps the two pyjama sets at Derek. “I  _specifically_ got you clothes you can wear to sleep!”  
  


"I never said I slept in pyjamas." Derek replies, climbing on top of the soft pillow that Stiles had provided as  bedding to the werewolf.   
  


The comment makes Stiles pause, wondering if that means that Derek usually sleeps in the nude or just the brief’s like he’s got on right now. Either image is just…  
  


Under the guise of clearing his throat, Stiles opens his mouth to comment (‘ _don’t ask if he sleeps naked don’t ask if he sleeps naked’_ ) “Too bad cause it’s my house, my room, my rules. Take it or leave it.”  
  


From his position, smack dab in the middle of the pillow that Stiles has managed to stuff into the biggest compartment of the bed shelving unit, Derek gives both sets of pyjama’s a dirty look. “They’re itchy. Not to mention they smell like plastic.”  
  


Stiles eyes the dolls clothing before admitting to himself that were the positions reversed, he wouldn’t want to go to sleep in itchy clothing either. “Fair enough.” He tosses the clothes back into the shopping bag before walking over to his bed.  
  


He sit down near the headboard, watching Derek jump up and down a few times on the pillow stuffed into the largest cubby before he lifts his ‘blanket’ up to his nose and takes a sniff. The older man makes a face before sneezing, rubbing his nose before he asks, “Where did you get this from?”  
  


The teenager shrugs, not wanting to say that the ‘blanket’ is actually his mom’s handkerchief.  _Was_ his mom’s. Stiles had kept it stuffed at the bottom of a box stashed away in his cupboard, for days when he’s feeling particularly melancholic and/or missing her. “Why you ask?” He asks in return.  
  


Derek rubs his nose again before pulling the handkerchief over him, covering his chest and legs with the pale yellow fabric. “Smells old. Kind of musty.” He pauses a moment, as though he’s judging whether or not he ought to continue or not. Stiles tilts his head curiously, quietly wondering what Derek is about to share.   
  


The werewolf notices the look and hesitates once more before continuing. “And a lot like lilies.” Derek pulls the fabric up to his nose, taking another sniff. “Or maybe magnolias.”   
  


Magnolia’s. The correction gets stuck in his throat and stays there, an uncomfortable lump that he can’t swallow around. His mom had loved the scent of magnolias, citing their gentle, citrus-y scent to be her favorite.   
  


"Smells kind of nice." The quiet confession serves to turn the lump into lead, forcing it to rattle around his ribcage and heart until it hurts. Stiles inhales slowly, nods and stands up, ready to get some rest because it’s been a long day.   
  


—  
  


"I’m not having noodles for breakfast." Derek insists, much to Stiles’ chagrin. He’s got the worst tiniest and most irritating house guest  _ever_. He’s severely tempted to ‘accidentally’ step on Derek or something.  
  


Stiles throws his hands up in the air, giving up against how much attitude Derek’s sporting (so tiny and yet so much rage and sass. Stiles is just a  _tiny_ bit impressed. Not that he’s making a size joke). “Fine, fine! What do you want then? Cheerios?”  
  


"Got any fruit?" Derek asks.  
  


Stiles turns his back towards Derek before he mimes the question mockingly to the fridge door, not happy with how damned high maintenance the man is. “I saw that.” Derek comments, making Stiles jump a tad guiltily.  
  


—  
  


Stiles keeps bouncing his feet against the tiled floor, fighting the urge to turn around. It’s a hard fight, especially when he hears a particularly large splash. “You alright?” He asks instead, fingers twitching against his knees before he digs them in and tells himself that it would be nine kinds of wrong to look back and watch tiny!Derek washing himself in a big bowl.  
  


"Fine." Derek replies, sounding like his regular self. So it was probably nothing. Maybe Derek’s just having fun and splashing around in his psuedo-bathtub. Stiles tries to imagine it. His brain helpfully supplies him with nothing but static. Some mental images just defy his imagination.  
  


So he sighs, gusty and loud before wondering why he feels like he’s forgotten something. Something very important. “Stiles.” Derek’s voice cuts through his thoughts, making him half turn around before he remembers that whoops, Derek is naked in a transparent bowl in the sink (oh  _God_ ,he is going to soak that bowl in bleach for a  _week_. Or maybe just toss it out and get a new one).   
  


"Yep?" He asks the bathroom door, trying not to watch the sink from the corner of his eye.  
  


"You forgot the towel."  
  


He forgot the-  
  


"Ooops." Stiles winces, jumping up to his feet. That’d be the important thing then.  
  


—  
  


Okay, so that thing that Scott had once said to him about not knowing when to stop teasing Derek? And having shitty self preservation instincts around the alpha? Maybe.  _Just maybe_! Scott could possibly have been right about that.  
  


"Pretty please?" Stiles tries to cajole the werewolf wrapped up in a hand towel, waving the leopard print surfer shorts at him. "Just for a minute."  
  


Derek glares at the shorts as though they have personally insulted him  _and_ his entire family. “No.” He replies, tugging the terrycloth tighter around him.   
  


With a groan, Stiles flops down to his knees, arms resting on top of the table before he eyes Derek balefully. “Come on dude! Live a little!”  
  


"Not by wearing  _those_.” Derek responds, nose curling at the shorts. “I’d sooner wear that purple robe you bought.” The second he notes Stiles’ eyes lighting up, Derek glares him. “Don’t even think about it.”  
  


Stiles throws his hands up into the air as he exclaims, “Dude! You’re totally spoiling my fun!”  
  


"This isn’t supposed to be  _fun_!” Derek growls back, sitting down on the table and looking like a crumpled towel pile than a tiny werewolf wrapped up in terrycloth fabric.   
  


Okay, maybe that was true. But still. “Look,” Stiles tries to explain, shuffling closer to the table. “I know it sucks but that doesn’t mean that you can’t let loose a little either! Just chill y’ know? Let us handle it.”  
  


"That’s what I’m afraid of." Derek mumbles darkly.  
  


Stiles pokes Derek’s side hard enough that he falls over. “I heard that, Grumpy! Just for that, I’m not giving you your clothes back.”  
  


The sound of someone clearing a throat makes Stiles look up at his door. Where his dad is currently standing, looking entirely unimpressed with the situation at hand. “Stiles.” He asks in his blandest tone. Which tends to mean that Stiles is two sentences away from being in deep shit. Crap. “Did I just hear you threaten our guest?”  
  


"Uuuuuuh…." Stiles stares at Derek struggling to push himself out of the thick material before finally popping his head out, glaring darkly at the teenager. "No?" He offers weakly.  
  


The Sheriff holds his son’s gaze for a few seconds before walking over. He leans down the table, tugging the hand towel down enough so that Derek’s torso is visible before he asks. “You alright, son?”  
  


"I’m fine." Derek replies, looking a little pink around the ears.  
  


With a quiet hum, the man gives Stiles a pointed look. “Give the man his clothes back. And stop trying to use him as a dress up doll.”   
  


Grumbling under his breath, Stiles opens the drawer when he’d stashed Derek’s clothes.  
  


—  
  


Stiles grabs his cellphone as soon as it starts to ring, checking the caller ID before he accepts the call. “Sup dude?”  
  


"Stiles!" Scott sounds like regular self, which means that this isn’t a werewolf related call. "Good news! Deaton said that he can fix the curse on Derek!" Or maybe it was.   
  


He looks over at the alpha werewolf who is sitting on his thigh, nibbling on a popcorn kernel while staring intently at the laptop screen. “That’s great!” Stiles replies enthusiastically. “How soon can he do whatever it is to fix Derek?”  
  


That gets Derek’s attention faster than a hungry cat that’s heard a bag of treats being shaken. Stiles puts his hand on the mic before he explains. “Deaton’s found a cure.”  
  


Derek looks visibly relieved. Stiles is certain that the same look is reflected on his face. “He’s already doing it.” Scott replies, making Stiles do a double take so hard that it jerks Derek in the middle of his lap. “I thought I’d better call you and warn you.”  
  


The feeling of Derek scrambling against his thighs makes Stiles’s legs part, body jerking against the ticklish sensations. It makes him yelp, back smacking into the headboard and the next thing he knows, he’s got actual sized Derek Hale all up in his business.  
  


The suddenness of being  _so damned close_ to Derek and his Derekness makes Stiles’ voice go a few pitches too high when he yells, “You should have called and warned me sooner, you  _idiot!_ ”  
  


Derek blinks down at him, looking as surprised as Stiles feels before he jumps off the bed. Stiles is certain that the feeling of Derek’s body pressed all the way against him is something he isn’t going to forget in a hurry.   
  


Or y’ know.  _Ever_.  
  


And he would feel a little insulted just how fast Derek’s jumped off him except he’s got  _really_ pink ears and God  _dammit!_ Stiles should  _not_ be finding that adorable as hell. “Why? What happened?” Scott asks in alarm.   
  


Stiles wants to reply back, ‘Oh nothing, just felt Derek Hale against me and hey, he actually feels as solid as he looks and I  _really_ wanted to rub off against him. A few times or something.’ “Stiles!  _Stiles!”_ Scott yells at him through the phone. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”  
  


He’s still a little shell shocked when Derek walks forward, snags the phone out of his hand and says, “Scott? It worked.” Which puts the man right next to Stiles, while he himself is lying on the bed. Meaning that Derek’s crotch is right  _there_.  
  


A tiny part of him wishes that the reversal had torn Derek’s clothes off. Stiles immediately feels like a tool. But his brain decides that  _that’s_ not enough and muses how bad of a pick up line it would be if he asks the werewolf if he can check if he’s back to normal size  _every where_.  
  


Stiles groans, hands covering his face with a slap that echoes in the room before he beings to mumble about his stupid brain. He realizes in between his grumbling that Derek is suspiciously quiet. So Stiles takes a peek through his fingers and sees the older man looking down at him with an odd look. “He’s… acting a little weird?” Derek finally says into the phone.   
  


"I’m not weird. You’re weird _,_ you weirdo.” Stiles grumbles automatically.  
  


It makes Derek roll his eyes and Stiles sigh in relief that the werewolf hasn’t noticed his embarrassment. “Scratch that, he’s fine.” He’s not sure what Scott’s telling Derek but it’s not causing the neutral expression to change so Stiles assumes that it’s nothing important.  
  


Nothing worth getting up over anyways. Especially when Derek hangs up and hands his phone back. “So?” Stiles asks, squirming back up into a seated position. “What’s the verdict?”  
  


Derek sighs, shoulders slumping as he sits down on the edge of the mattress. “She was a new witch. It was a mistake and she was happy to fix it as soon as possible. And apparently she’s made this mistake a few times before so she was able to reverse it quickly.”  
  


It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask what kind of witch can be that clumsy with magic that she’s shrunk so many people that she’s adept at reversing the spell when Derek turns to look at him.  
  


Instead of his regular half-glower, there’s a soft look in his eyes that makes Stiles freeze. “Thank you. For your help.” The quiet words warm his heart, making him want to squirm in his seat and beam with pride.  
  


Instead he just ducks his head, fingers playing with the bed cover. “It was nothing.” Stiles replies, ruffling his hair before looking up at Derek with a half smile. Derek looks like he might disagree but instead shakes his head and offers a bashful smile of his own.   
  


The sight of it makes Stiles heart ache, sweet and quick. It also makes him shift over to the side, hand patting the space next to him as he offers, “Wanna finish the movie?” Stiles picks up the laptop from where it has fallen during the tiny scuffle and returns it to its rightful place in his lap.  
  


He’s expecting Derek to reject the offer, to say that he ought to go back or something. But Derek simply looks at him, judging his offer before he nods slowly and takes his jacket off. Stiles won’t admit it, even to himself, but he feels stupidly happy and pleased when Derek stretches out next to him like a content cat. Minus a tail.  
  


"Oh man." Stiles muses, finger hovering over the ‘play’ button. "I’m gonna miss your tail! It was so fluffy…" He gives Derek a cheeky grin, hoping that his heartbeat doesn’t sound too uneven or anything when he realizes how close they are not. And wow, were he and Derek always the same height? 

The werewolf rolls his eyes and gently cuffs Stiles’ head. “Shut up and watch the movie.” He chides.


End file.
